<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>a is for ad'ika by Adaris</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141790">a is for ad'ika</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adaris/pseuds/Adaris'>Adaris</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>And a sprinkle of angst, Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Jedi Holocron, Pre-Season/Series 02, Snacktime, for ~flavour~</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:02:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,770</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141790</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adaris/pseuds/Adaris</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Din and the Child visit the public library on Helios Station. </p><p>—</p><p>Sometimes you just want a dad and his ad to wander around a space station and try to have a relaxing time</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Din Djarin &amp; Grogu | Baby Yoda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a is for ad'ika</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Don't know if I should warn for this but Grogu eats a lot of bugs. Crunch crunch</p><p>Mando'a translations:<br/>Ad — child<br/>Ad'ika — child (but cuter)<br/>Birikad — baby-carrier</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Okay, we're here. You like libraries? Can you read?" Din stares down at the Child, who's fifty years old, but also still a baby. Not a situation people generally find themselves in. "You'd let me know if you could read, right?" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Child chews on his sleeve. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"That's what I thought." He holds out his hands. "C’mon." The Child toddles up to him and lets Din tucks him into his cape, now repurposed into a <em>birikad</em>—the floating cradle is hard to keep track of in crowded places, and Din prefers having the Child close, anyway. He rests a hand on the bundle against his chest and gets a peep in response. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They leave the <em>Razor Crest</em> and wander through the dirt-smeared hallways of Helios, the space station orbiting Eos II. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eos II’s star is one of the few in the galaxy with a functioning Iokath swarm. Every day, the swarm collects the star's energy and reflects it towards Helios Station. Then, the energy gets beamed to the planet, where it powers foundries and manufacturing plants that make some of the galaxy's okayest spaceships. As a result, Eos II is almost important—an impressive feat for an Outer Rim world. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Still, a lot of people come through here, looking for ships, information, and work. Din and his Child are no different. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The station's wide main promenade, lined with storefronts, wraps all the way around the station in an enormous circle. A collection array forms the center of the station, gathering energy reflected by the Iokath swarm. For a second, Din's disappointed that there aren't windows so he can see the mirrors—then he realizes that it's probably so bright, anyone who tried to look would get their eyeballs seared. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He is marginally less disappointed. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They walk past an open-air market; but can it be considered an <em>open-air</em> market inside a space station, Din wonders. The air is warm, spiced with scents from across the galaxy; each stall has its own bright fabric awning, creating a quilt of colors. Dozens of vendors sell everything from fresh fruits and vegetables to cookware to flavored insects. The Child watches everything with innocent wonder, one hand stretching out to tug on a piece of colorful fabric as they pass by. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You hungry?" he asks, and the Child babbles in a way that probably means yes. He wanders a bit closer to check out the wares—Din has a sneaking suspicion that the Child likes bugs so much because they’re his species’ version of candy. But the way he looks at the stall of insects… </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He walks a bit closer, smiling when the Child lights up as he takes in the crickets, cockroaches, worms, and things with too many legs. Din has a vague awareness that these are not all insects, but he can't remember what they actually are. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Aw, look at those ears. Who do those belong to?" the woman at the stall asks. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before Din can stop him, the Child pokes his head completely out of the <em>birikad</em> and coos to the woman. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"What a sweetheart!" She smiles up at Din. "Is he yours?" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yep. And I guess we'll take some of those," he adds, seeing the Child making grabby hands towards the open bin of teriyaki crickets. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Love to see an enthusiastic customer. Here, have one on the house." She offers the child a cricket, and he grabs it and chomps down, delighted. "How old is he?" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Din scrambles to remember how babies are supposed to age, but he can’t come up with anything concrete. "A few months," he lies, trying to sound confident and not like a neglectful father. It’s not his fault that his baby is unrealistically old! </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You’re so young!" She gives the Child a gentle pat on the head, and he looks up at her with a smile, the back legs of the cricket sticking out of his mouth. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Din nods, making sure the Child can eat the cricket legs. "Yeah, he is." Even though nobody can see him smile, he’s pretty sure the Child can sense it, because he smiles too. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The woman scratches behind one of the Child’s ears. "They’re so cute at that age—but they grow up fast, too. Anyway. That'll be three credits for a small box." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Din walks away with a box full of crickets and a distinctly happier Child. But the woman’s words circle in his head—the Child won’t grow up fast. Just the opposite. His Child will outlive him, and Din will have to entrust him to someone else. Someone he’ll remember far clearer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Din was ten years old when the Empire rose, but he doesn’t remember what his life had been like beforehand. He doesn't even remember his parents' faces. All he can conjure up is a red scarf, dark hair like his, brown eyes. The details slip away no matter how hard he tries to hold on to them, a bit further every year. It used to upset him, when he’d been younger, but… that’s just the way the mind works. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Whatever the Child remembers of him, he’ll make sure it’s good. Even if it’s something small, it’ll be something good. "Okay, kid, we have snacks. Now we just have to find the library." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"If you're looking for the library, it's just down that way," a storekeeper volunteers. He's middle-aged, taking care of an antiques shop. "First door on the left, can't miss it. Lots of cute books there for the kid, too." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Thanks. Hear that?" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Child crunches on a cricket and reaches for another handful with his little clawed hand. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Save some for later," Din says gently, while at the same time letting him eat another cricket. Ah kark, the kid's going to remember him forever as 'cricket man', isn't he. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Din takes his time as he walks; the windows on the right of the promenade show open space, dropping down to the rosy, cloudy planet below. One of Eos II's nine moons passes by the station, its surface pale and marked by ancient craters. Despite the view, few people are actually admiring it—they have better places to be. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For a second, he thinks he's missed the library, but then he sees the wall to the left is made of pale green glass, with HELIOS STATION PUBLIC LIBRARY etched in silver on the surface. Inside, the floor drops away to reveal five levels filled with volumes, maybe more. Once upon a time, most publications had been digital, but file formats move fast, and physical books are always readable. Plus, they’re nice to hold. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Look, kid, here we are," he says, looking down at the <em>birikad</em>. But instead of finding the child, he finds nothing. Actually, there's a single leaf stolen from a potted plant. So, less than nothing. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Where is his Child?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Just the thought sends a wave of panic crashing down on him, and for a second, he thinks he might pass out in the hallway before he remembers to breathe. His brain brings up a series of unhelpful scenarios—the Imps managed to get him, he's wandered off and gotten himself kidnapped, he's decided he would rather have a <em>buir</em> whose face he can see—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Din runs back towards the open-air market, thinking the little guy might have just wanted a snack. Gods, hopefully he just wanted a snack. He activates the heat-signature tracker in his visor, but the halls are so crowded that the signatures all blend together into a senseless orange mush. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Always keep an eye on the Child</em>, he scolds himself. Now the kid’s run off on a moon-sized space station crammed with people. Kark, it’s going to take ages to search the place, and his heat vision is useless, and—and he <em>lost</em> his <em>Child</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Excuse me? I think your son's in my store," someone says behind Din. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He spins around, gaze locking on the man from the antiques store. "What?" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Little green guy? He's over there. You seem like you're looking for him, and I just wanted to make sure—" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Din pretty much runs over to the store, and before he can even check for heat signatures, something tugs at the leg of his trousers. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks down and finds his Child staring up at him with those wide brown eyes. "There you are!" Din scoops him up off the floor, checking to make sure he hasn’t been hurt. "Where did you go? Don't do that again, I was so worried about you." He sighs, fussing with the Child’s clothes as he returns the Child to the <em>birikad</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Child babbles to himself, unconcerned. He's managed to find a shiny new toy, some kind of brass cube, and he's intent on chewing it. Of course he's fine. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Well, good to know you've got him back," the man says, smiling. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah. He just wandered off for a second." Din nudges at one of the Child's ears. "Didn't you?" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Child glances between them, innocence shining in his eyes. Din doesn't buy it for a second. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Womp rat," he accuses, getting a chirp in response.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I think he found something he likes," the storekeeper jokes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, sorry about the drool." Din tries to take the cube, and the Child looks up at him with a mournful expression, ears drooping. Immediately, he caves. “Just out of curiosity, how much would this run me?" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The storekeeper pretends to think about it, even though he already has a price in mind. "It's an antique data storage device, predates the Empire. Although I haven't been able to figure out how to charge it, or even turn it on. Fifty credits?" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oh, kark. Din mentally goes through his budget. "I can do thirty." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The storekeeper frowns, then says, "Done. But only because the kid's so cute." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Said kid looks up at them with sparkling eyes, chewing on the cube with renewed energy. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Money exchanges hands, and they return to the library without further incident. Din keeps a hand on the child’s back to make sure he doesn’t run off again. No matter how hard he tries, the Child is always one step ahead of him—concerning in its own way. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There aren’t any staff here, which he prefers. Information about the Jedi has been restricted ever since the Empire, and while the system might flag his search, there’s nothing to connect him to the search without someone going through hours of security footage. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Child watches him type with a strange kind of fascination, head tilted to the side, like he might figure out what’s going on if he stares hard enough. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In the whole entire library, Din finds exactly three references to the Jedi. More than he’d hoped for, frankly. “Alright, we have our list. You ready?" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Child babbles to himself. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Great. Me too." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Din keeps one hand on the Child’s back as he walks down the spiral staircase to the third level, where the reference materials are. "Hey, no crumbs," he reminds the Child, who’s about to start on another cricket. "Not until we’re sitting down, okay?" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This gets him a disappointed frown.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Come on. Let’s go find our books." He takes the Child with him into the stacks—glowing green books line each shelf, going from floor to the ceiling, almost twelve feet high. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He can ask one of the librarian-droids to get them, but he’s trying to hide his tracks. Unfortunately for him, the first book is all the way up near the ceiling. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Well, maybe we can ask for this one. Unless you can get it, up there?" He points, and the Child follows with his eyes. "What do you think?" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Child looks back to Din, then holds out a little clawed hand. The book trembles, then shakes, then tumbles right into Din’s hands. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Good job! Wow. You’re good at that." He puts a hand on the Child’s head, and the little one gives him a happy smile. "Let’s hope the others are within reach." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Child chatters to Din while they collect the other books, insisting on using his magic to get them too. At first, Din’s worried he’ll tire himself out, but it doesn’t look like it takes him much energy. Also, he’s been fortified by a box of crickets. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You did great, <em>ad’ika</em>,” he says, scratching idly behind one of the Child’s oversized ears, "How about we find ourselves a nice place to read all of these?" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Child chews on the corner of a book. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Whoops. No, don’t do that, those are for everyone." He gently tugs the book free and gives the Child his cube instead. "Over there looks good, huh?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s a secluded nook tucked in between two big bookcases of biographies, with a large desk and a single chair. That’ll do for him. He sets all the books down and pushes his cape into something resembling a nest, so he can set the Child up with his little box of crickets and his cube. The Child makes a low, soft sound, almost like a purr, as he settles into his nest. His little clawed hands pat at the grey fabric, tugging it up around him, and he sighs in contentment. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At first, Din thinks he might doze off, but he stays awake to chew on his newfound prize again. As the Child chomps down, one of the cube’s corners seems to swivel. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A beam of blue light appears from the cube, and Din reflexively tries to take it from him before it can explode.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Both of them are surprised by his sudden move, and the cube skitters across the floor, leaving dents in the metal—what, is it made of beskar? A shimmering blue holo appears, someone with fluffy hair and a beard. He looks mid-sentence, clothes marked with blaster burns. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Din grabs the cube, making sure no one has noticed. Before he can figure out how to turn the thing on, the man starts to say, "—not safe to return. The Temple has been—repeat—not—" Then he flickers and disappears, replaced by a spinning blue symbol. Din makes out a star and a pair of wings before it vanishes too. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Child reaches out and pats the cube, confused as to why it stopped projecting. He makes the upset peep that means, <em>where did you go? </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He tries to twist the corner to make the image come back, but the cube’s faint blue glow fades to a dull grey instead. Somehow, it feels a bit heavier than before. "Sorry, kid, I think we broke it. Did you know that guy?" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">From the way the Child is trying nuzzle the cube, he remembers. The tips of his ears curl down, and he looks sadder than any toddler should. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Well, that hurts all of Din’s parental instincts. This Child has lost so much, and he’s not even old enough to talk yet. On top of that, he remembers what’s happened, which is more than he could say for a human baby. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Din rests a gloved hand on the Child’s back until he sets the cube down with a toddler-sized sigh. “I’m sorry he’s gone," he murmurs. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Child taps his empty hands together, looking up at Din. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We can look into that too. Someone has to know something, right?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Instead of responding, the Child toddles over to him, wanting to be held. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Din’s heart pretty much melts as he cuddles the Child and a little pair of hands rest on his helmet. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"C'mon, you have to help me with these books. That looks familiar, right?" He points to the title page of the first book, which has the same winged symbol from the cube. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Child coos in agreement. Probably. Maybe he’s just hungry. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Says here that it’s the symbol of the Jedi Order,” he adds, running a finger over the phrase on the page. “Your people.” </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Although the Child just tilts his head, not understanding—right, he can’t read. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, maybe we should start somewhere easier, huh?” He flips through the book, then settles on a chapter title page. “That's the aurebesh letter <em>aurek</em>." He points to the title, which reads, <em>Acht-to: The First Temple.</em> "Like the first letter in <em>Alderaan</em>. Or <em>ad'ika</em>." </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The Child's ears flick forward as he concentrates, studying the letter. After a moment, he glances back to Din with a frown. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">"Aurek." He points again. The Child nods solemnly, then reaches over and gently places one clawed hand on top of Din's. “Close enough," he laughs. "Good job." </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">The Child giggles and pats Din's hand again, looking up at him with adoring eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">Close enough. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I thought it would be a cute symmetry for there to be more "emergency warning" holocrons to be out there, waiting to be found. Also, they're shiny :D</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>